


The knight's move

by traumschwinge



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Chess, Coffee Shops, Gen, I have no idea what I did and how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Erik helps a random stranger win a chess match, he doesn't know how much he would regret not asking for that stranger's name. Luckily for him, the stranger couldn't get Erik out of his head as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The knight's move

“I’d move my knight on e6, if I were you.” The sentence was out of Erik’s mouth before he could help it. He had no idea why he even said it. All he had wanted to do was grab a coffee, not helping strangers who were sitting on one of the tables playing online chess. Even if they were quite good, good enough to make him watch while he's waiting for the queue to move on.

The game was evenly matched and he couldn’t help admiring both players and wanting to play them himself some time. Not that he's playing much nowadays when he had rarely a minute of his own with the kids and his job taking up almost all of his time.

But when he saw the move the brown haired man on his laptop was about to make, he couldn’t help but stepping in. It would have been a dire mistake, Erik was sure of that, by what he’s guessing of the opponents strategy. And for some reason, he didn’t want the match to end just now, even though there was only one person in front of him now and he wouldn’t be able to continue watching without looking like a creeper after he’d ordered and obtained his coffee.

The man on his computer turned around and two cerulean orbs glared at Erik somewhat irritated. “Thanks,” the man said with a hint of a British accent before he turned back to his computer and moved his knight.

Before Erik could think of anything to say in response it was his turn to place an order. He ordered his usual—Cappuccino—and waited for it. It was a pity really that he couldn’t watch the screen from here. He would have loved to know how the game would end. It had looked like it would be over soon and it was close enough a call that those last few moves would decide everything.

Erik watched the man run a hand through his brown locks, take a deep breath more than once and then, after another two or four clicks, he started typing, smiling fondly at the screen before he shut his laptop, shoved it into his bag and left. 

Erik wished he had at least asked for the guy’s name.

***

Charles couldn’t believe he'd won. He couldn’t believe the move this passing stranger had told him to make had been not only sound but had also won him the game in the end. 

He thanked his friend in London for the match and bid him good-bye before he hurriedly shut his laptop and almost fled from the coffee shop. Who ever that man had been he must be good, almost masterly good.

He had a class to teach he told himself as he pushed the door open to prevent himself from looking back at the stranger.

Charles wasn’t a bad chess player. In fact, he even was pretty good and he could even play tournaments if he’d ever wanted to. And his friend was just as good. So for a passing stranger to correct him while playing was highly unlikely. And yet it had happened, how was that. 

Arriving at his office, Charles briefly tried to remember the stranger’s face but he’d only glanced at him briefly and payed no attention at all. What he could remember was that the man had been tall and maybe in his thirties but Charles couldn’t be sure and the stranger had had a narrow waist to go with his big hands. He wished he’d looked properly at the man.

In retrospect, he should just have asked him for his name and email and maybe they could have agreed to play a match or two. Charles was quite convinced now that that would have been the best thing to do. Better at fleeing the scene at any rate.

On the other hand, the man shouldn’t even had approached him in the first place. What kind of person stared at other people’s screens for long enough to read a chess match. Okay, most people did look at other people’s screens but shouldn’t they look away after a second? Certainly people shouldn’t comment on the chess matches they saw there. Especially, if the comments were infuriatingly right hints that helped him win a match against his friend in London who was about as good as him. 

Charles started up his computer again and carefully saved the pgn file for later study. He had seen that the knight move had been the right one, he just didn’t understand how he couldn’t have seen this. 

But that problem, along with the problem of the identity of the mysterious chess master, would have to wait until later. Right now, Charles had a class to teach.

***

A week had passed since Erik had encountered the chess playing man in the coffee shop. And for the whole week, he had wondered who he was. He really wished he’d asked him for his name or a match, preferably both. Which was why he was back at the same coffee shop a week later, exactly at the same time as the week before and this time with a little more time to spare before he would have to head to his office.

The only trouble was that he couldn’t even remember the man’s face. Sure, he could picture the back of his head just fine, but “brown hair a little bit curly at the ends” was as good as nothing. He was fairly certain he would recognize the man’s eyes any time, but it was hard to get a look of people’s eyes at best and creepy to most of them at worst. So Erik ordered himself his usual and took a look around the cafe.

***

Charles had found himself in the coffee shop without even thinking. Okay, that was a lie. He had the smallest of hopes that he would encounter the mysterious chess master there again. He had been thinking about this man so much during the past seven days that it started to become ridiculous. It could have been just a lucky guess on the stranger’s part after all. But something in Charles highly doubted that.

Which was why he had brought his laptop with him yet again and was studying last week’s match for what felt like the thousandth time. By now, he almost knew it by heart, every little mistake he had made, every mistake of his friend’s, every move and every beaten piece. It had been one of his better matches, Charles had been pleased to see while analyzing but there had still been some avoidable mistakes.

The table he’d sat on the previous week had been occupied when he’d arrived a bit earlier than the mysterious chess master—Charles really wished he’d have a name to replace that silly nickname he’d given the man—had last week. So he was forced to take up a table at the far end of the dining area. He just hoped he would be seen there if the man he was waiting for turned up.

He was halfway through his latte, when a deep, somewhat familiar voice asked him, “Is this seat taken?”

Charles turned around to tell who ever it was that he wanted to drink his bloody coffee on his own but the words must have gotten mixed up in his mouth because what he actually said was, “Excuse me, do I know you? You seem familiar.”

At which the handsome man started to laugh. Charles just hoped that he wasn’t one of the guy’s who hadn’t fallen for his horrible flirting techniques at some bar or another. But as it stood, that fear was without reason, as the man said “Well, I think I’m the asshole who interrupted your game last week.” Memory must have dawned visibly on Charles’ face, because the man added, “Listen, I’d say I’m sorry but that would be a lie. I am sorry, however, that I didn’t ask you for a match there and then because I’d like to play against you. You’re good.”

“Not as good as you,” Charles said. “I’d never have seen that move without you. Thanks again by the way.” And then, remembering the initial question, he added, “Please, do take a seat. It would be lovely to have someone to place chess with. Do you work around here?”

Again, the man laughed and was Charles imagining things or did it do weird things to his stomach to hear it? “You know, usually people ask for a name before they ask about work.”

Charles tried not to blush. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my friend. My name’s Charles Xavier.” He held out a hand, smiling.

The man took it and squeezed it. “Erik Lehnsherr. And I do work around here, actually, just two buildings over.”

 


End file.
